


Secret of the Midnight Cello

by mrs_schoolweek



Series: Short Stories from Fallout Universe [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Ghouls, Other, breaking rules, doesn't count if you don't get caught, ghoulified character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:31:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_schoolweek/pseuds/mrs_schoolweek
Summary: Nate learns a secret about the Brotherhood - and hears cello music.





	

Secret of the midnight cello

It’s been over a year already and still Nate doesn’t quite relax around them. He knows it’s all for the greater good, he know’s it’s all necessary… Yet the feeling still gnaws him. The never-faltering faih of the paladins on a battlefield, the formal strictness of the scribes in archives… It’s like they all would have seen some absolute truth, some sort of unquestionable right and duty to justify their every action and only he, Nate alone, would’ve been left outside this all-forgiving, all-explaining secret. When he gets the chance, he creeps to a library, to a quiet corner where the world still seems still and sane.

One night, long after the watchmen have declared silence and curfew, Nate gets up from his sleeping bag and listens carefully. No footsteps, no creaks of an armor. Just the quiet hum of the base as generators run, turrets rotate and a watchman in the tower slowly inhales cigarette smoke. Slowly, he slips outside and looks around: still no-one. Nate’s restless steps carry him towards a barrack, now used for storing salvaged books. Normally he wouldn’t go there since he’s specifically instructed otherwise but it’s night now. Yes, the scribe working there has been granted absolute industrial peace and yes, given the oath of silence. But it’s 1 AM, the scribe should be in his quarters and borrowing some books disturbs no-one, Nate decides. When he’s behind the door already, he hears a melody. The same, weird music he’s heard nights before and blamed on the radio in the watchtower. But this is clearly not a radio: the melody sounds almost alive, vibrating inside the barrack and flowing out from ventilating hatches and covered windows. Curious, Nate carefully opens the door and slips inside. 

Dim light and the smell of old paper envelope the man. He’s in a narrow corridor, surrounded by lines of bookshelves on both sides. Crates full of documents and books litter the floor. From the far corner of the building, behind the shelves, strange music still fountains. Slowly, on his tiptoes, Nate sneaks closer and peaks. A scribe, head covered in a large hood, ebraces a worn cello, fondling it’s strings like a lover. He seems to sense Nate’s glance and lifts his head. The music stops and Nate gasps in surprise.  
”Somebody’s not quite following the rules, eh?” the scribe rasps and tilts his head. The part of his face Nate sees above a respirator that hangs loosely around his neck is rough and scarred – clearly ghoulified. He stands there, awkwardly, before answers:  
”that makes two of us, huh?”  
The scribe chuckles and gently places the cello on an armchair as he gets up.  
”I don’t see you reaching for a gun, young man, even though you stand face to face to an ’enemy of the mankind’. Thank you, it’s most appreciated.” A playful grin lights his face and Nate can’t help it: he smiles back.  
”I don’t see you following your oath of silence. It seems that we both are breaking the rules here”, Nate answers.   
”The oath of… oh, I see. You have misunderstood. ’Oath’ is a rule we give to ourselves, a sign of inner promise or goal. ’Rule’ is set by others, a sign of social promise or goal. This ”oath” of mine, you see, is given to me by Elder Maxon himself. I am Librarian, the head archivist of salvaged, scavenged and damaged books here in the Commonwealth”, the ghoul says softly and reaches his hand towards Nate. He takes it without hesitation, shakes it firmly. He has never felt disgust towards ghouls, mutants or other poor bastards he’s encountered at the wastes. Before the war his best friend was Karl, a cheerful fellow who got 3rd degree burns from jet fuel to most of his face and upper body while serving his first year as a military aircraft technician. This man, Librarian, didn’t look much worse than Karl.   
”But… Elder Maxon… The Brotherhood of Steel despises ghouls. They, -you, aren’t allowed in the base” Nate wonders. The Librarian chuckles again.  
”There you are absolutely right, young man. Well, have you seen any ghouls around?”  
”Well… not”, Nate admits and furrows his brow.  
”Precisely. Brotherhood of Steel does not tolerate ghoul presence in the base”, the Librarian says and smiles.  
”Well tell me, son, have you seen any hookers around?”   
”Most definitely not, sir. It is strictly forbidden”, Nate responds, confused.   
”You are right, young man. Well, do you go around breaking into the quarters of high-rank officers?” the Librarian’s smile widens and he winks.  
”That is right, son. And this is why you don’t see any hookers around the base. Here in Brotherhood of Steel, we don’t trust in rumors or beliefs. The only truth is a scientific, hard fact that can be proven by accurate, just measures.”  
”So… the Brotherhood has ghouls?!” Nate feels relief rushing trough his body. Finally, a surprising spark of humanity. A secret in a place like this. Something warm, crafty even, behind the Elder’s stone facade.  
”Not a single one, son. Not a single one.” The Librarian places his calloused palm on Nate’s shoulder and nods.   
”We trust in facts. Our medical officer has recommended the diagnose ’ionizing tissue damage” and the Elder himself has stated that ’ionizing tissue damage’ is not a reason to step down from duty. If it was, we’d have to cast out every single soldier with a radiation sickness, melanoma,cataract, hell, even sunburns. I have simply been promoted and re-assigned since I suffered a severe, ahem… ionizing trauma.”  
”What happened?” Nate asked before he managed to stop himself. the Librarian snorted.  
”A stupid mistake. A young scribe trainee tinkered with a generator. I arrived just in time to put ventilation in a lock down and shut the damn thing before he irradiate the whole goddamn main archive in DC. We had to wait in the sealed generator room for half a day before they managed to cut a hole to the blast doors. When they got us to the med bay, it turned out that we had had enough ’ionizing tissue damage’ to require… unusual treatment.”

”They… Brotherhood of Steel ghoulified you on purpose?”  
”God, no! The young Elder himself came by my sickbed and promised that they’d ’do anything in their power to keep a loyal brother in their ranks’. In my case that happened to mean continuing the exposure. Besides, I’m not the only brother in arms with… atypical diagnose.”  
Nate felt his jaw drop. Elder Maxon?!   
”You see, young man… It seems that, from the medical viewpoint, certain kind of loyal and brave individuals tend to be immune to certain undesirable conditions. Tell me, have you seen many of your brothers and sisters in arms without their armors and gowns?” The Librarian asked gently. Nate shook his head.  
”Isn’t it amazing how few mutations, birth defects and other undesirable conditions occur in our rank? It’s almost like the love of truth and righteousness shields us, don’t you think? Now, son… Have you ever played a cello?”

That night, and countless nights after, the gentle melody of a worn cello echoed over the base. And every day, Nate started to feel a bit more like home. Under every gown and armor, behind the cold facade of duty and formality, was a brother – as warm, real and humane as he was.


End file.
